


Prompto’s Spicy Curry Princess

by queenhomeslice



Series: Promptober 2020 [18]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Curry, F/M, Pining, Promptober 2020, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27070690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Prompto’s best friend comes over to make curry at his house.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Reader
Series: Promptober 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937668
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	Prompto’s Spicy Curry Princess

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final  
> Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own  
> the rights to FF in any way.
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with The Walt Disney Company, Pixar, or any affiliate companies. I do not own the rights to Disney’s “Tangled” and I am not making money from this work. 
> 
> ————
> 
> Promptober Day 17: Spicy

  
Prompto’s so nervous, he’s sweating through his school uniform. He’d booked it home as fast as he could to start cleaning his house. His longtime friend, ________, is coming over to cook his favorite spicy curry dish. Well, and to watch a movie, but Prompto’s more hyped about the food than anything else. It certainly doesn’t have _anything_ to do with his massive crush on his friend. Nope. Not at all. Nothing to do with the fact that his parents aren’t home and he’s going to have a girl in his house, cooking food and being all domestic. Nope.

Prompto throws his school bag on the couch and sweeps the kitchen, dining room, and entryway as best as he can. He bolts upstairs and Lysols the entire hallway bathroom, making sure to scrub the toilet until it’s sparkling. He strips his bed and carries his dirty laundry to the washer and dryer, putting on a load. He dusts the tv and his game console, lights a candle on the coffee table, and does the dishes, making sure to clean the kitchen sink and the counter tops. He puts new sheets on his bed and makes sure his room is straight, and he shuts the door to his parents’ room after making sure everything is spotless.

At five o’clock on the dot, _________ knocks on the door of the Argentum residence. Prompto’s still in his uniform—well, mostly. He'd ditched his blazer, and his tie is loose around his neck, dress shirt buttons undone at the top. He swallows nervously, but _________ doesn’t seem to be phased. She’s still in her uniform too, blazer and all, school bag slung around her curvy waist. Her arms are bursting at the seems with bags of groceries, and she’s giving Prompto a killer smile that makes him weak at the knees.

“Hey Prom!” she says brightly.

“Oh, hey, ________! You’re here! Ha ha, uh. Lemme get some of those bags!” Prompto reaches for one of the heavy paper sacks. “Oof,” he says, stumbling back inside of the doorway. “Heavy! Whatcha got in here, rocks?”

________ laughs, a bright, lilting sound that makes Prompto hot under the collar. “Well, I wasn’t sure what you had, so I brought everything—bottles of soy sauce, mirin, oil, ketchup, you know. Everything. Plus the meat and the vegetables. And rice.”

“Wow,” says Prompto, moving to shut the door after her. He tries not to stare at the backs of her bare thighs as she leans against his wall and kicks off her chunky shoes. It makes her sink a couple of inches, and Prompto’s not sure he can take it. He always did have a thing for short girls. The absolute territory between her high black socks and pleated skirt makes his tongue heavy in his mouth. She chatters away, gliding into his kitchen like she’s been there a hundred times (she has). Prompto helps her take everything out of the bags, amazed at all of the ingredients on his counter.

“Okay,” she says, taking off her blazer and rolling her sleeves to her elbows.

Who does Prompto have to thank for the gift of seeing more of his best friend’s creamy skin? Bahamut, if you’re listening, you’re a real bro.

“Do you have a rice cooker?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” Prompto knows where that is—it's one of the few devices he can use without setting the kitchen on fire. He squats and digs under the cabinet, bringing out the rice cooker and plugging it up.

“Cool.”

She’s largely silent as she measures out the rice and the water, pushing buttons on the cooker, muttering in satisfaction when it begins to heat up. She takes off her watch and the bracelet she’s wearing, placing them on the counter next to Prompto.

He watches in fascination as she chops the meat and the vegetables. Prompto’s too mesmerized to make even idle conversation—but silence is never awkward with _________. It’s one of the things he loves about her. She understands that sometimes, talking is too much. Prompto’s often so deep in his own head, he talks just to keep himself sane. He lets his anxiety get the best of him—but __________ always knows what to say. Or not say. Prompto brings out his phone and sneaks a few pictures of her cooking, getting lost in the way the steam from the hot pan on the stove circles around her cute, round face. He watches her add the vegetables one by one to the cooked chicken, then spices, then more vegetables, then broth, finally turning the heat down to simmer. She grabs the dish towel from the stove and wipes her hands, folding it to wipe the sweat from her face. She turns to where Prompto’s been sitting on the adjacent counter, watching her.

“Just gotta let the potatoes and the carrots soften,” she says, smiling.

“Amazing,” says Prompto, shaking his head. “You’re just like Iggy.”

___________ giggles and blushes, shaking her head as she turns back to stir the savory chicken and vegetable mixture on the stove. “I’m not all that,” she says. “You know Iggy is way better at this than me. It’s a simple enough recipe, anyway.”

“It’s quantum physics to me, dude,” Prompto laughs, wiping his sweaty palms on his slacks. He watches __________ stir a little more and then place the cover over the pot, turning the heat down to an even lower simmer. The almost-curry is still at a rolling boil; __________ turns and moves away from the stove, leaning agains the counter and sighing heavily.

“You okay?” Prompto bites his lip. He hopes his friend hasn’t overdone it just for his sake. He's not worth it.

She smiles softly. “Yeah, I’m great. There’s...there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Prompto gulps. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to take that. He manages a smile, chuckling. “Well I, uh...I’m glad I’m not boring you.” His heart is threatening to pound out of his chest.

The curry is done not too long after that, and Prompto helps to serve himself, mouth watering at the spicy scent of the chicken and vegetables. He moves to the couch and places his bowl on the coffee table, turning on the tv and popping in the movie. He hopes he’s not being super obvious about having picked a romantic Disney princess film, but he can’t help it. He pops in _Tangled_ and sits on the couch, careful not to crowd his friend as she sits with her food and gasps in glee at the opening sequence.

By the time the movie is over, their stomachs are full and Prompto’s mouth is burning in the best way possible. He’s also not complaining about the way that _________ is snuggled against his side, chubby cheek on his bony shoulder. He can’t tell if she’s fallen asleep or not, but he dares not disturb her. The movie ends, thousands of floating lanterns flying all around the Kingdom of Corona in celebration of Rapunzel’s return, screen fading to the end credits sequence, catchy music blaring from the speakers.

Prompto’s a sucker for love stories and princesses, so naturally he’s smiling like an idiot, even though he’s seen this movie a thousand times. He reaches for the remote—but _________ lets out soft whuffles in the middle of her deep breathing.

“Prompto,” she says in her sleep, making soft groans as her eyes twitch.

Prompto’s heart catches in his throat. “________…?” he tries.

There’s no answer, only the rhythmic rise and fall of her ample chest.

Prompto settles back down on the couch and presses a gentle kiss to his best friend’s hair, wishing he could tell her how he really feels...but he’ll take her head on his shoulder, and her spicy curry in his belly, any day of the week.


End file.
